


interlude.

by multiverse (infrequency)



Series: you, on my skin [4]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spider-Man Fusion, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:21:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27561412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infrequency/pseuds/multiverse
Summary: Seungcheol has known Seokmin for years, going back to scraped knees and wet eyes, and when I'll never leave you while playing schoolyard games didn't hold the weight it does now. The stakes are higher, and the secrets are heavier.The truth unravels.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Lee Seokmin | DK, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Lee Seokmin | DK/Yoon Jeonghan
Series: you, on my skin [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901848
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	interlude.

**Author's Note:**

> and now, for something a little more gentle.

The men up on the news  
They try to tell us all that we will lose  
But it's so easy in this blue  
Where everything is good  
— Lorde, Buzzcut Season

_Snapping sounds in quick succession rattle through the silence like the last gasps of death, setting Seungcheol’s teeth on edge. Buildings crumble to rubble. The dark matter in front of him sucks the pieces to the sky, the air rippling like waves around him. He feels weary, helpless. Feels pained, like he’s already thousands of steps behind._

_The faceless form in front of him laughs in a deep, inhuman tone. “You’ve lost, Spider-Man,” it says robotically. “Everything you love is now mine.”_

_Seungcheol presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, ignoring the harsh stinging of tears. Crying will do him no good, and feelings are a distraction from what’s important now. Regret twinges in his gut, centering his thoughts on the thin chain around his neck. He doesn’t need to hold it between his fingers to carry the weight of an echoed promise of forever. To feel the engraved vow etched into the side of the ring that hangs from it._

_It’s not just for_ him _, or for them. It’s for everyone._

_He propels himself forward._

_He can already hear the voice of the reporters screaming out his name, asking why he failed._

_“Spider-Man! Do you have a minute to comment on how you let an entire neighborhood die? Spider-Man! Hey, Spidey!”_

_The cries of ‘Spider-Man’ spin into his given name, a chorus of his father’s voice, Seokmin’s disappointed scolding, of Jeonghan’s nagging, discordant and_ loud _._

_“Seungcheol. Seungcheol,” they cry._

_Everyone needs him. Everyone reaches out for a piece of him until he's in slices and being passed around. Like a birthday cake, every piece of him cut for everyone to share._

_He's in pieces but he's the one cutting himself open, bit by bit._

🕸

Seungcheol is still nestled between two bodies when he wakes up with his heart pounding, eyes wide open, and searching. Seokmin’s warm hand slides along his bare chest, hooked under his arm during the night, pulling him in closer.

On his right, Jeonghan makes an irritated squeak in his sleep and rolls over. Gone to the world.

Nothing in this second chance at love is familiar. Even Jeonghan’s presence doesn't soothe the nightmares. He has them often and frequently these days. It's always the same every time; failure weighing him down, the broken promise of a better tomorrow wrapped around his neck. Tension. Fear of waking up alone, not knowing what he’ll find.

Each time, relief in knowing he can reach out to cling to two sets of hands as he drifts back to sleep.

“You were talking in your sleep again, hyung,” Seokmin says. Seungcheol can hear the question he's not asking. He doesn't know how to respond.

It’s never been Seokmin's style to keep pushing, always choosing a more passive route to affection without disrupting or being invasive. Not like Jeonghan, who prods and prods until the issues spill out in the puncture wounds.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

He _wants_ to, but having one person know your secret puts them in danger. Two isn't something he thinks he can stomach. Seungcheol trusts Seokmin with his life but knows it'll be a long while before Seokmin can begin to trust him again.

_“I wanted to hurt you,” Seokmin had said, brushing the hair from a sleeping Jeonghan’s face. He doesn't look at him, but Seungcheol knows from the rigidity of his spine that he means it._

_“I wanted you to hurt the way you hurt him.”_

“Been a long day, can we talk in the morning?” The deflection comes easily. Comes like water moving downstream. Seokmin hesitates, then curls back into him.

Lips brush the corded muscles of his tense shoulder, and Seungcheol forces himself to relax. But the scraping of metal collapsing into itself would sound like a symphony compared to the heart-aching sound of defeat that leaves Seokmin's lips. A silent, “Sure.”

“I love you,” Seungcheol offers.

It's not a lie, but the words sound ill-timed.

They hang in the air, dangling from a thread. The suspension reminds him of the dream, and the feeling of dread and hopelessness flatten flush to his heart.

Seungcheol _tries_. He can do nothing but try. He has decades of silent heartache to turn back the clocks on, years of bleeding that he can’t even begin to patch up without some humility, some admission in his part widening the fault lines between the three of them.

Between the messy throupling, kissing away tears, and hours of confessions that pressed down on them like a weight, he’ll die a thousand deaths before he lets Seokmin ever think that he’d ever walk away from him again. From either of them.

“In the morning,” Seokmin agrees as if he’d never heard anything else. The admission stays strung in the air, swinging slowly from the gallows.

The silence brings more unease than the nightmare.

They don't speak in the morning. In fact, Seokmin doesn't speak directly to Seungcheol for three days. Jeonghan mediates as much as he can, but he's so tired that he gets short with both of them and goes back to his own apartment. It's closer to his job anyway, he says, and says goodbye with narrowed eyes and jabbing fingers.

“You two are adults. Start acting like it.”

Seungcheol has known Seokmin for years, going back to scraped knees and wet eyes, and when _I'll never leave you_ while playing schoolyard games didn't hold the weight it does now. The stakes are higher, and the secrets are heavier.

The truth unravels on day six, over the sound of a tea kettle whistling and keys hitting the counter. It's not an easy admission, but it spills out. Like water. Like tears, bottled up inside for too long.

“You sent my dad to jail,” is the first thing Seokmin says, broken and disjointed. Even with that revelation, both of them know they're thinking about the blood on Seokmin's hands; Seungcheol’s literal blood as he bled out in the carnage of a fight, and Seokmin's hands dragging him to safety.

His palms face open. “You saved my life.”

“You kept him alive,” is the next thing Seokmin says, and Seungcheol doesn't need context for it. They're both envisioning Jeonghan as he was on that day, rain-soaked and tear-stained. A look of something he doesn't recognize passes over Seokmin's face and Seungcheol braces himself for the worst. It never comes.

On day nine, Jeonghan texts that he's bored and wants to come home. Neither of them responds to him in the group chat. Jeonghan sends a series of angry bunny stickers until they do.

Day thirteen has Seungcheol pressed against the shower wall with Seokmin's mouth at his throat. The water is searing on his skin, but Seokmin's words are a brilliant supernova, tattooing confessions into his flesh.

“I love you, you're ours, we love you,” and _mine, mine, don't you know you've always been mine?_

For a few precious moments, Seungcheol can forget. He's just a man in love. He has nothing else to worry about.

When Jeonghan comes home annoyed on the evening of day fourteen, he stares at them curled up together on the couch. A cooking show plays in the background as Seokmin's fingers stroke through Seungcheol's hair absentmindedly as he floats in and out of sleep. It's peaceful. 

Naturally, he can't have that.

“So did you know,” Jeonghan starts, dropping his bag onto Seungcheol’s feet, ignoring the indignant shouting with an evil grin on his face.

“We used to make _disgusting_ comments about your ass in spandex all the time. Seokmin once said that—”

A throw pillow to the face shuts him up before he can finish the thought.

**Author's Note:**

> i like these boys a lot.  
> [my cc](http://curiouscat.qa/infrequenced) || [extended a/n](https://infrequencies.dreamwidth.org/3012.html)  
> 


End file.
